


through every open door

by abovetheruins



Category: American Idol RPF
Genre: Alternate Universe - Movie Fusion, Developing Relationship, First Meetings, Fluff and Angst, Hurt/Comfort, M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-08-30
Updated: 2015-08-30
Packaged: 2018-04-18 03:33:54
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,209
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4690598
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/abovetheruins/pseuds/abovetheruins
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>David should be thrilled to spend the summer with his family at a gorgeous mountain lodge. Knowing that the trip is a desperate attempt to help aid in his recovery, however, makes it hard to enjoy himself. Until he strikes up an unexpected friendship with one of the lodge workers, anyway.</p>
            </blockquote>





	through every open door

**Author's Note:**

> This fic is affectionately known in my notes as _Saucy Singing_ , aka the Dirty Dancing au that nobody asked for! I blame this entirely on asweetdownfall, who put the idea in my head (I feel like a lot of my fics start out this way, haha). I had originally planned to post it all in one go, but I keep putting it on the backburner to work on other things, so I figured that posting it in chapters would give me more incentive to finish it. Five chapters is a guesstimate – there may end up being more, there may end up being less. 
> 
> Rating will go up as we progress.

The radio is on, the volume turned down low and barely audible over the hum of the air conditioner. His mother's singing softly along in the passenger seat, Claudia humming the tune beside him as she taps away at her phone. Daniel's immersed in his game system and not paying much attention to anything else, and Jazzy and Amber fell asleep a little while ago.  
  
David stares out the window, watching the mountain roads pass by beneath the wheels of the car. There are markers along the way that tell them they're headed in the right direction, the words  _Cowell's Lodge_  emblazoned across each sign, followed by the number of miles they have left to go – fifteen, ten, five.  
  
David catches his mother's eye as they approach the gated entrance; Lupe's studying him through her mirror, and she smiles, soft and a little hopeful, when their eyes meet. David smiles instinctively back, but his fingers tighten around the hem of his t-shirt, out of her sight.  
  
They pass through the gate after a few short moments, his father showing his ID and confirming their reservation to the uniformed guard stationed there. It's a short drive from there to the lodge, and David watches with interest as the landscape opens up into the bowl of a valley, mountains rising up on all sides. It’s beautiful, the way the sun streams over the pine trees. He can see a lake stretching out in the distance, and, nestled in the valley, a huge log building which must be the main lodge.  
  
He’s glad for the chance to stretch his legs once his father pulls into the designated parking area, and he works the kinks out of his muscles as Jeff starts unloading the bags and his mother shakes the girls awake. He can see other families pouring from their vehicles, some guests walking across the expansive grounds with tennis rackets or swim gear. He breathes in a lungful of the clear mountain air, letting it out in a gentle  _whoosh_ , and tries to let all of his unease go with it.  
  
It works, for about a second, until his mother rests her hand on his shoulder and tugs him gently along toward the lodge. There’s such a tentative hope in the curve of her smile as they approach the elegant yet rustic building, and David swallows, his heart thumping dully to the bottom of his stomach. He suddenly wishes he could escape back to the car, that he could stay there until it was time to go back home. He kind of wishes he had just stayed home in the first place.  
  
  
  
Their cabin is huge; it's one story but spacious, surrounded by a deck painted the same white shade as the outer walls. There's a porch swing in front, swaying gently, along with a comfortable looking bench and a row of white deck chairs. A windchime hanging from the porch twists merrily in the light summer breeze, tinkling as they approach.  
  
David's the last one in the door, his siblings having raced ahead to scope out the cabin and claim their rooms for the summer. David will be sharing with Daniel, the younger girls grouped together in another room, and Claudia on her own. He's not particular about where he ends up, content to let Daniel stake their claim to whichever room he prefers.  
  
The interior is open and smells a little like pine, the furniture and floors all dark wood and the walls a creamy beige. There’s a fireplace in the living room and huge bay windows that give a spectacular view of the mountains, and David marvels at the view for a moment before he hears his mother’s urging everyone to get ready.  
  
He withholds a grimace as he turns away from the windows and heads toward the bedrooms. He kind of wants to burrow under his covers and stay there for the rest of the evening, preferring that to a night of people and noise. The woman who had checked them in had told them about a party being held that night up at the lodge, in welcome of the new guests and those who had returned for the summer. Everyone else had seemed excited at the prospect, probably just thrilled to be doing anything after so many hours stuck in the car.  
  
He feels bad about lying, but David pulls his mom aside and asks if he can skip it.  
  
“I’m just really tired,” he says, trying his hardest to ignore the disappointed looks his mother and father share when they think he’s not looking. “You know, from the – the car ride.”  
  
“You stay in and rest then,” his mother tells him, running her hand soothingly though his hair. “We shouldn’t be too long.”  
  
He wastes little time in taking off in the opposite direction once his family filter out of the cabin, all of them dressed up and chatting excitedly about the party. He knows on some level that, as uncomfortable as the crowd and the noise up at the lodge would make him, being stuck with just himself and his thoughts for company will only make him feel worse. A walk might help to clear his head.  
  
He avoids the brightly lit main hall, classical music spilling from the open doors into the warm night air, the sound of laughter and voices raised in conversation drifting to his ears, and instead takes to the dirt path leading away from the guest cabins and the other lodge buildings. It's a little darker the further away he gets from the compound, but David doesn't mind. It's a nice night, the air warm and a little breezy, and David's always been more comfortable on his own than in the middle of a crowd.  
  
He feels a little selfish. His parents spent a lot of money to do this, bring all of the kids out to Cowell's Lodge for the summer. All of the doctors had pushed for it, told them that fresh air, rest, and a stress free environment would be beneficial to his recovery, and one of his father's coworkers had told Jeff about this place, Cowell's Lodge, said it was family-oriented and had all of these activities that would keep the kids entertained. There were hiking trails and tennis courts and a beautiful lake on the property that was open to the guests for swimming and canoeing. It was the ideal place for a family getaway.  
  
His parents had looked into it and had liked what they'd seen, had told them all that it was a family vacation when really David knew it was all for  _him_ , because they thought it would help him,  _hoped_  it would help him. And David should be appreciative, he  _was_  appreciative, but he couldn't help feeling as though he were under a microscope, like his parents and even his siblings were all watching him, waiting for some sort of miraculous recovery, as if they thought that as soon as David breathed in some of the warm mountain air or spent a few days swimming in the lake or playing tennis at the lodge he'd be able to  _sing_.  
  
This was supposed to be a vacation, and yet David felt more pressure to succeed here than he ever had at home, because his parents didn't know what to  _do_  anymore, and they'd spent so much money to bring them all here, not to mention all of David's appointments with doctors over the years and the vocal coach they’d sent him to and –  
  
Someone bumps into him, something heavy hitting the ground at David's feet, and he jumps when he realizes he's meandered further away from the main lodge than he meant to. He's at the end of a small white bridge leading up to a staircase – really just a series of stone steps built into the side of a hill that leads up to a large, slightly run down cabin. Off to the side of it are a series of smaller cabins, red-walled with tiny white porches.  
  
"Sorry about that, kid!" The person that bumped into him turns out to be a young guy, skinny with dark hair, and David quickly apologizes, knowing it's his own fault for spacing out and being unaware of his surroundings. He reaches down to pick up what turns out to be a watermelon, hefting it into his arms and watching as the guy juggles two more while attempting to reach for the third.  
  
"Um, do you need help?" David looks pointedly at the row of stone steps in front of them, and the guy laughs.  
  
"Nah," he says. "I've already dropped these things like eight times trying to drag them here from the lodge, so a few more bruises probably won't hurt 'em. Besides – " He looks at David, and David fights the urge to fidget under his stare. "Aren't you a guest? I'm pretty sure I saw you come in with a group of them earlier. What are you doing back here around the staff quarters?"  
  
"Oh, um. I was just out walking. I guess I lost track of where I was going?" David looks around. "Is it against the rules or something to be back here?"  
  
"Well, the boss usually frowns on it, but I won't tell if you won't. I'm Devin, by the way." The guy – Devin, apparently – holds out his hand, the watermelons in his grip sliding precariously, and David hurriedly offers his own hand before they fall to the ground.  
  
"Oh! I'm David. David Archuleta."  
  
"Welcome to Cowell's, David," Devin says, grinning, and then he glances at the burden in his arms and the stairs and seems to waver for a moment. "Uh, could you lend me a hand, actually? I think I'd probably kill myself trying to carry all three of these up there."  
  
"Sure," David agrees, and hefts his watermelon higher up into his arms. He wonders how Devin managed to carry three of them all the way here without straining something – they're ridiculously heavy.  
  
Devin starts up the steps but pauses for a second to glance over his shoulder. "Just, uh, don't let anyone know you were back here, okay? Like I said, the boss kind of frowns on guests mingling with the staff."  
  
"Oh, um, okay?" David says, a little confused, but Devin smiles in thanks and heads up the steps, and David has to hurry to keep up.  
  
He didn't notice it before, but the further up they get the more apparent it is that music is coming from the larger cabin. It's actually kind of  _loud_ , the screech of guitars and the pounding of drums making David's ears ring a little, and he follows after Devin at a more sedate pace, a little unsure about following him in there.  
  
Still, he can't just leave the watermelon on the stairs and run away. He resolves to just get it where it needs to go and then head back to his family's cabin, hoping he can find his way back without getting lost.  
  
As they near the top of the steps David notices that the cabin is really more like a large barn, the paint faded to a rust red color and chipping away in places. The double doors are cracked open and music is spilling out from inside, and there's laughter and screaming and also  _singing_ , and suddenly David really, really does not want to go in there.  
  
Devin must notice his hesitation; he smiles in a friendly way and gestures towards the doors. "It's really not so bad once you get used to it," he says, having to speak a little louder to be heard over the music, and David almost laughs when he realizes Devin thinks he's concerned about the  _noise_  rather than the music itself.  
  
But of course he can't tell Devin that. He hasn't been able to say it to his parents and he's definitely not going to tell some random stranger that hey, he really doesn't like to be around music at all anymore?  
  
He takes a deep breath before they go in, though it doesn’t help much once the wall of sound hits him. There are people everywhere, some sitting on threadbare couches, most of them dancing. There’s a group of guys at the front of the room, three of them playing guitars and another on the drums, and as the crowd of people shifts David can see one of the guys, tall with auburn hair and holding a white guitar, step up to the mic.  
  
_"_ _Put on a scent with some attitude  
Put on a dress with some bite  
Make up your skin like your favorite star  
You're going out tonight._ "  
  
Devin catches him staring and laughs. “Can you imagine music like this out on the main stage? They’d close the place down first.”  
  
David doesn’t doubt it; the only music he’d heard so far in the lodge had been the gentle, nondescript classical musical that they’d been playing at the party, and he almost laughs as he imagines his parents hearing (or, better yet, trying to dance to) anything like this.  
  
All of his laughter dries up in his throat, though, as the man up on stage continues to sing, his voice rough and gravelly as he nearly growls out the words.  
  
_"_ _Your fairy tale couldn't get much worse  
You're a broken bride and we all know  
We can win you over,  
With just a kiss on the neck._ "  
  
His dark eyes scan the crowd, passing over David by the door, and, even though he knows the man probably can’t actually see him, David feels a little bolt of… well, of  _something_  go down his spine. The crowd’s cheering and screaming, some with beer bottles raised over their head as they move along to the music, and David’s completely entranced by the energy of it all, the way the singer seems to effortlessly command the attention of everyone in the room.  
  
“Here.” David nearly jumps as Devin steps up to him, empty-handed now and gesturing for the watermelon that David’s still holding. He reddens a little, quickly passing over his burden before tilting his head at the stage.  
  
“They’re, um. They’re really good,” he says, and Devin grins.  
  
“You think so?”  
  
“Yeah. Who, uh – ?”  
  
“That’s Dave, the singer? He’s a friend of mine. Him and the rest of the guys – well, everyone here, actually – work at the lodge.”  
  
“Really?” David turns back to the stage, watching as the singer – Dave – and the band crash to the end of the song, the people gathered around cheering and whistling as the music fades.  
  
“You want to meet him?”  
  
“Huh?” Devin’s giving him a knowing look, and David has absolutely no idea what it makes him blush. “Oh, no, that’s – I should probably be heading back – “  
  
“Hey, Dave!” Devin waves his arm above his head before David even finishes speaking, and he feels his shoulders tense as a new voice washes over the room, laced with an accent and telling the crowd to, “Give it up for the guys, yeah?”  
  
It’s amid the renewed burst of applause that David feels someone brush against him, and he glances up to see Dave, fresh from the stage with sweat gleaming on his forehead and in the hollow of his throat, a grin curling his lips.  
  
“Who’s this?” he asks, giving David an inquisitive look.  
  
Before he can say anything, Devin claps a hand on his shoulder, and David barely suppresses the urge to flinch. “This is David Archuleta. David, this is David Cook.”  
  
“Nice to meet you.” A hand is thrust in David’s direction, and he takes it with a fumbled lack of grace that leaves him flushing. “Just Cook is fine. Or Dave.”  
  
“Oh, uh – “ David rallies for something to say, a little overwhelmed by the music and the noise and Cook’s large, easy grin. He finally catches sight of the watermelons stacked together on a nearby table, and of their own accord the words just kind of… come out. “I carried a watermelon.”  
  
Cook looks like he’s trying not to laugh; he opens his mouth to say something, but music from the stage interrupts him. A woman with dark hair and tattoos swirling up her arm launches into a rendition of  _Come Together_ , and David uses Cook’s lapse of attention to mentally berate himself.  
  
_I carried a watermelon?_  he thinks, resisting the urge to smack his forehead. Gosh, he's so  _lame_.  
  
A dancing couple nearly crash into him, jarring him from his thoughts, and Cook’s hand wrapped around his upper arm is the only thing that prevents him from falling to the floor.  
  
“If you wanted to dance you could have just asked,” he says, grinning toothily, and before David can say anything (like “Oh my gosh, I wasn’t – !” or “Um,  _no_ ,” because he and dancing just do not mix), Cook is pulling him out onto the floor, into the press of bodies and closer to the stage.  
  
“Cook,” he tries, his voice barely discernible in the wake of the woman’s on stage and the music washing over them, “I’m not – I can’t really – “  
  
“What was that?” Cook asks, yelling to be heard over the crowd. He sways along to the music, while David just kind of… stands there, stiff and unmoving, until Cook rolls his eyes (not in a mocking way, just kind of amused?) and grips David’s elbows, moving him gently along to the beat.  
  
And okay, David’s not – he’s really not a big fan of people touching him, especially strangers, and he’d kind of like nothing more than to wrench away from Cook’s grip, light as it is, and make his way back to the cabin.  
  
But – well. It’s not really so bad, he guesses, and Cook is kind of – okay, really awful at the whole dancing thing, actually, and he keeps making these exaggerated moves with his hips that make David laugh, which helps David to be – well, not  _as_  tense as he was before.  
  
He claps along with the rest of the crowd as the woman finishes her song, but it’s not long before she launches into another. Cook tugs on his arm, saying, “Do you want to – ?” and even though David’s still a little flustered and doesn’t entirely know what he’s doing, he nods his head, letting Cook guide his movements to the new song.  
  
It’s late when he finally leaves the barn, making his way carefully back onto the path leading away from the staff quarters. He’s tired and he smells a little bit like beer (oh gosh, he hopes his family hasn’t beat him back to the cabin yet!) but he feels better than he did when he’d first set out earlier that evening. It had been strange, definitely, being around so much music, but he’d been able to focus more on dancing (well, trying to dance) and Cook’s increasingly ridiculous moves so that the music hadn’t bothered him as much.  
  
He smiles a little, thinking of Cook and Devin seeing him off, Devin telling him how to get back to the guest cabins and the way Cook had said, “See you around, David.”  
  
Maybe this vacation won’t be so bad after all.


End file.
